In the interval, Gene had stumbled to the chair he'd sat in earlier, a few hours ago, a lifetime ago. He had stared at the rings on the table while Tony took his shower before angrily sweeping them off onto the floor with a grunt of frustration.

The noise would likely have been covered up by the shower.

He'd taken a few deep breaths and put his head in his hands, resuming his mask of composure when he heard the water turn off. But he'd made no move to retrieve the rings.

He doesn't look at the bag. That would mean acknowledging that Tony might not come back.

"Okay," he says, and he manages to have it not sound too strained. "I'll see you then, I guess."